“I wonder if 'Tranny-Granny will be here tonight.” said Jessica as they made their way through the crowd.

“Odds are she will. She's never missed a night to my knowledge. Every time I've been here, she just sits at her stool from open to close. It's sad, like she's waiting for someone.” Katie answered. “But I hope I'm out and about at her age.”

“Who is 'Tranny-Granny.'” asked Jenny looking puzzled.

“She's this crazy old cross-dresser, and when I say old we're talking ninety, give or take a year.”

Jenny arrived at the appointed location to meet her sisters. It was the Dairy Queen across the street from the city's oldest trans-gendered night-club. She thought about the irony of being a 'Drag-Queen' in a Dairy Queen across the street from Queen Anne's Revenge, the name of the T-club. That's what a casual observer might have said. But Jenny knew better than to call herself a Drag-Queen, she wasn't dressed up to entertain anybody except herself. She was in the right place, but running just a bit early. Ordering a small Oreo blizzard, she took a seat in the booth and waited for the clock to strike ten.

Jenny knew what the other girls looked like from their profile pictures on the web-site. She didn't think it'd be difficult to identify them. Jessica entered first, Jenny admired her pictures before on the site because she looked so positively feminine. She was dressed appropriately for a woman in her early 30's and also blended amazingly well. Neither of them noticed Katie until she sat down at the table and said hello cheerfully. She was the epitome of femininity, and pulled off the early 20's-emo-girl look better than some real women. Jenny had to closely examine her before she could tell Katie wasn't actually a GG.

The three gurls sat for a while, waiting for Nessa and her unnamed friend to show. Aside from their on-line friendship they were strangers to each other. A few minutes passed before Jenny's pink, disposable cell phone gave her a text message alert. Her good phone, the apple i-phone at home, was 'Jerry's' and for business use only. Jenny respected this simple boundary, and loaded up a pre-paid, pink piece of crap phone for herself to use until something better became available. The text was from Nessa.

“Hey girl, sorry but I'm running late. I'll meet you at the club, you 3 go on without me.”

Jenny felt disappointed and suspicious all at once. Disappointment sprang from wanting to meet Nessa, whose pictures on the CD boards were incredible. Jenny hoped one day she could look that good, but she wasn't as naturally feminine as Nessa appeared to be. The suspicion arose from the text itself. 'How did she know all three of us showed up?' she thought. This whole meeting was her idea, and now that she got us all out here she was going to be running late.
 

Two shady women in a black BMW rolled down their window and peered inside the drive-thru portal. Vanessa took the half-tray of peanut butter frosty's from the clerk and paid him without ever looking in his direction. Her eyes instead focused in on the three cross-dressers at a booth, barely in her line-of-sight. It was them, the ones she'd been expecting. 'Nessa,' her on-line alias, lured them here using an Internet forum that catered to cross-dressers. It was the first time she had seen them in person, and she had to admit they were good at what they did. Three of the best she'd ever seen as far as passing was concerned. That special quality in them, which Vanessa recognized from their profile pictures, might mark them as potential pack-sisters. Tonight was like sorority rush night for Gamma-Gamma-Werewoman, and Vanessa was rush chairwoman.

“Let's go in and get this over with.” Heather said unenthusiastically. To her this was work. It was becoming a boring routine. Heather hadn't even bothered to look up and establish visual contact with her quarry.

“I thought, maybe we could meet them at the club.” Vanessa said cautiously. She knew Heather hated changing plans mid-op. 'She could be so un-flexible at times!' Vanessa told herself.

“Didn't you tell them to meet you at the Dairy Queen?” Heather asked, sounding annoyed. “Do you want to piss them off? And me?” the annoyance now bordered on anger. “Cause if that's the case, well done.”

“Geez, chill! They're not going to be pissed, Heather. I'm just meeting up with them later.” Vanessa looked prettier to Heather when she was being defensive. Vanessa knew it too, she secretly wondered if Heather pushed her buttons just for that reason sometimes. “Besides, do you want to meet up with a trio of cross-dressers under the track lighting of a Dairy Queen? Don't you think that might give us away?” Vanessa reasoned with sound logic here, and Heather seldom objected to that.

Heather found herself agreeing. “You're right, the lighting at the club is dimmer, we could probably pass for cross-dressers in there. But not in DQ. Especially in front of gurls who know what to look for.” Heather fell silent for a split second. “Here's an idea, if we wait for them to have a couple drinks at the club before approaching, there's even less of a chance they'll read us.” Heather's idea was not merely a suggestion, Vanessa could tell.

Something about their plan seemed ironic to both of Heather and Vanessa. Cross-dressers usually tried to pass as women, here two women were trying to pass as cross-dressers. Well, two werewomen anyway. They'd both been to Queen Anne's Revenge before, it was a good place to spot and approach potential recruits for the pack. Tonight though, they needed to blend in with the CD crowd in order to evaluate the latest batch of potential recruits. They didn't want to reveal themselves too early, or they'd have three cross-dressers on their hands and knees begging to be turned. Or running for the hills screaming all the way. They had to prove themselves first.

Vanessa pressed 'send' on her phone, a message was en-route to a contact named 'Jenny.'
 

“We're on our way there, and you still can't tell me?” I begged Emily to reveal our destination once more.

“We'll be there in a minute, you'll just have to wait.” came Emily's reply. She knew the anticipation was killing Erin, but she enjoyed toying with her new sister.

“Fine, be that way.” I pouted.

Her car wound its way through the dark streets towards the brighter, central business district. The buildings were getting bigger, and the sidewalks more crowded with people. When the vehicle finally stopped moving, we were parked in an empty lot, behind a Dairy Queen.

“This is the mysterious, ' place you always wanted to go' that you told me about? Dairy Queen? Wow, thanks.” I said in my 'just kidding' voice.

Emily picked up on my jovial tone. “No silly, there.” She placed her hand on my shoulder, and gently turned my body to the right, pointing to a building across the street. “Queen Anne's Revenge is a local T-club, although Dairy queen makes a mean Oreo blizzard.” she winked as we briefly made eye-contact.

I was silent for a moment. I wasn't sure why she'd call the T-club a place I always wanted to go. Scanning the sidewalk in front of Queen Anne's Revenge I saw a line out the door. T-gurls, cross-dressers of the MtF and FtM variety, transvestites, pre-ops and post-ops, all terms which fit under the trans-gender umbrella were represented in the line out the door. Even though I was not sure what Emily meant, I was curious enough to try it out. After what I had been through, this new frontier presented to me wasn't daunting in the slightest. After a long, awkward pause, I spoke. “Alright, I'm game.” I started walking towards the line of T-gurls without waiting for my companion.

Emily smiled.
 

Jenny, Jessica and Katie made their way across the street and lined up to enter the club. When they arrived at the door, the bouncer took their money and ID's, and herded them inside. It suddenly occurred to Jenny how easily a T-club could be infiltrated by under-agers. This bouncer couldn't tell whose license belonged to whom, and he handed them all back to Jenny in a pile. It was obvious 'Biff' here was easily fooled by some cosmetics and a wig. Jenny returned her friends licenses without looking at their male names, she didn't want to know them. Male names are widely understood to be 'need to know basis' information, referring to them as anything other than Jessica and Katie was bad form indeed. It was a matter of respect amongst the trans-gendered.

The hall behind the front door was long and dark, lit only by strips of floor lighting attached to the base-boards. Inside the club, different colored lights swirled around the walls and floor, seeming to follow the rhythm of the music. As her group made their way towards a table, Jenny took a look at the patrons surrounding her. T-gurls of all descriptions were inside, some GG's were present too. Alone in a quiet corner, some drabbed out admirers were pounding through some liquid courage, hoping to strike up a conversation with an exotic T-gurl. They were a feature of the landscape common to every T-club, but Jenny never paid them any mind. Scanning the crowd on the dance floor, Jenny saw a range of generations getting down together. Some dancing faces in the looked older, others younger and naturally some looked better than others. Jenny blushed with pride, her group was in the top five percent in terms of appearance. If Nessa ever got here, their stock would rise higher yet.

“I wonder if 'Tranny-Granny will be here tonight.” said Jessica as they made their way through the crowd.

“Odds are she will. She's never missed a night to my knowledge. Every time I've been here, she just sits at her stool from open to close. It's sad, like she's waiting for someone.” Katie answered. “But I hope I'm out and about at her age.”

“Who is 'Tranny-Granny.'” asked Jenny looking puzzled.

“She's this crazy old cross-dresser, and when I say old we're talking ninety, give or take a year.” Katie explained. Of the two other girls in the group, she seemed to know the most about this place. “She rarely speaks to anybody, but when she does it's in a strange accent.” Jenny was glad to be here with someone who knew the place so well.

“And some people say she can see the future.” Jessica interjected. It appeared that she was also familiar with the club, and its unusual patron. “She reads people's fortunes.”

This piqued Jenny's curiosity.

“That's true, but she's selective about who she speaks to. Kinda stuck up, you know?” Katie continued. “When I tried to talk to her once, she just said, 'Galang bout yuh business.' I never tried to get her to read my fortune after that.” It didn't seem to bother Katie in the least.

“What is she, West-Indian?” Jenny inquired about Katie's sudden accent impression. Jenny had an affinity for language and accents, she enjoyed hearing them in person, on the phone or on television. Something about the way foreigners seemed to sing as they spoke struck her as fascinating.

“I guess that's what it is, sounds kinda Jamaican'ish.” Jessica answered before Katie could.

“How do you know?” Katie asked in a surprised voice.

“She read my fortune one night.” Jessica revealed.

“Shut-up!” Katie said, sounding playful and incredulous at once. “What did she say?”

“She said some mumbo jumbo about 'Babylon,' whatever that means. I could barely hear her.” Jessica revealed. “With her soft voice and that strong accent, I tried to be polite but I barely caught a word.”

The topic of conversation shifted away from the strange person called 'Tranny-Granny' as the cocktail waitress approached to take orders. The service was quick, and as the three gurls sipped their cocktails, they took turns complimenting the appearance of the other two. Compliments on feminine presentation are common ice breakers amongst cross-dressers. Jenny loved to talk shop, trade tips and secrets. Eventually the conversation moved along to their outfits themselves. Questions like, 'Your (fill in the clothing article here) looks awesome on you, where did you get it?' peppered the conversation at this point. Jenny loved to dish about the bargains she found, and the CD friendly stores that she visited.

The group seemed to forget all about meeting up with Nessa and her anonymous friend as their banter continued. Soon the gurls hit the dance floor, piling their heels and purses in the middle of the triangle formed by their bodies. Jenny always enjoyed dancing, but while dressed it was a natural high for her. They were careful to keep an appropriate distance, in the conversation it came out that both Katie and Jessica were married. Jenny was also attracted to women only, so the dancing wasn't intended to attract a mate. It was just dance therapy.

But dancing in all those layers was thirsty work, so after shaking it with her new friends for a number of songs, she wandered up to the bar alone to get a glass of water. Time to re-hydrate from the alcohol and perspiration.
 

Heather and Vanessa sat together at their usual table. From this vantage, they were free to observe the dance floor below, scanning aura's and occasionally going in for a closer look at an interesting or anomalous one. It was a great place to hone one's skills, a T-club was a werewoman training ground of sorts. Down below, the three gurls Vanessa and Heather were here to observe sat at a table by themselves, no doubt talking about one another's clothes, shoes, wigs and other accessories.

“They're heading to the dance floor now, should we go down and make introductions?” Vanessa asked Heather. She'd gone to such trouble to lure these three out tonight. Actually, Katie and Jessica agreed to meet quickly with no hesitation. They even talked about past visits to this very club. But Jenny seemed uncertain up until the very last moment. Vanessa had written her off, but was pleasantly surprised by a message Jenny sent just after moon-rise. Jenny was somewhat skittish in her on-line personality, and Vanessa couldn't shake the feeling that if she didn't get a good look at Jenny's aura tonight, she'd never get another chance.

“Sure, lets...” Heather trailed off mid-sentence. She was staring in the direction of the balcony entrance “Well, well... look at what we have here.” Heather pointed towards Emily and Erin, hand in hand, making their way towards a quiet table in the back. Neither of them seemed noticed Heather and Vanessa.

Heather half covered her mouth and spoke softly in the direction of her toadie Vanessa. “Looks like that day-walker b&%$# is still breaking her in.” Only in these guarded moments would Heather and Vanessa dare to refer to Emily as 'that day-walker b&%$#.' It was their private name for her, born out of intense jealousy directed at her ability to live in one gender. It also infuriated Heather to see that although they were a good 50 yards apart, she could see Erin's beaming smile.

On the one hand, that's precisely what Heather wanted. The more Erin enjoyed her time with Emily, the faster she'd undergo her conversion into a day-walker. With each enjoyable experience as a woman, 'Erin' would gain ground over 'Aaron.' Little by little he'd cede control to her, all leading up to an unconditional surrender to his inner female. That's when Heather would take what she needed from her.

On the other hand, it didn't go too well last time when Heather attempted to engage her plan with Emily. After meeting 'Emile' here on that fateful night all those years ago, Heather recognized his potential right away. She spared no effort in seducing him, using every trick she knew to get him to take her bait. He had a stronger will than most. Even after she summoned his feminine energy to talk in 'Emile's' place, 'Emily' begged Heather not to turn her. Both her masculine and feminine side were very much in love with their wife and cared deeply for their daughters. As much as 'Emile' wanted to become a woman, he wanted to be a father and husband more. But Heather would not be denied, she turned 'Emile' with a bite despite his pleas.

Luckily for Heather, Emily seemed to have incomplete knowledge of her turning. Only bits and pieces of her memories from that night ever resurfaced, probably because the event was so traumatic and painful. Emily did remembered Heather was the one who'd bitten her. So to fill in the blanks, Heather engineered a cover-up story to make it seem as though it wasn't her fault. Heather told Emily that she herself had just been turned, and didn't realize what she was doing. Of course it was a bogus statement, she'd been changing for years by that point and knew precisely what she wanted. But Heather sold her story well, and promised to make it up to a despondent Emily. That's about the time Heather started to organize her pack.

But when the time came to take what she needed from Emily, Heather hesitated. The overwhelming guilt she felt over 'Emile's' loss of wife and family prevented Heather from acting. She'd made a mistake with Emily, a move she would not repeat with Erin.

“Why don't you go down alone, focus on the one you called, 'Jenny.'” Heather seemed distant as she spoke to Vanessa. “Even from here I can see she's got what it takes. Besides, you said the other two are married, and you know the rules.” The rule to which she was referring, which forbade pack-sisters from converting married TG's, was insisted upon by Emily as a pre-condition to her joining the pack. Her eyes were locked on Emily and Erin the entire time she thought and spoke. “Get Jenny out of here fast, I'll go distract our sisters.”

“Whatever, go play with your new toy.” Vanessa sounded hurt. Even though she presented a tough facade, down deep she was a big softy. But it was useless to object, Vanessa reasoned. Heather was clearly growing more powerful if she could read Jenny's aura cold from this distance. So Vanessa jealously watched Heather glide across the upper mezzanine, while she herself headed towards the stairs.
 

Jenny walked up to the least crowded section of the bar. It happened to be on the far right side of the room, where several stools in a row stood vacant. As she finished her approach, she found herself standing to the left of an elderly looking African-American gurl. Deep creased wrinkles and faded irises betrayed her advanced age. She even wore a gray wig. Jenny knew right away that it must be the fabled, 'Tranny-Granny.'

“Oh excuse me.” Jenny said to the 'old-goat' beside her. “I'm just here for a glass of water.” Her neighbor was silent. “Don't you just love it here?” Jenny continued, eager to hear her infamous accent. But again no answer came. “I do.” Jenny answered her own question at last.

“Chicken merry, hawk deh is near.” the octogenarian gurl warned, pointing up to the balcony level across the room as she spoke in a surprisingly strong voice. And her accent was no phony baloney, Miss Cleo saying, 'Cyall meh now!' it was legit.

Somehow, Jenny understood the strange words. “I think I understand, are you telling me I'm in danger?” Jenny asked somewhat incredulously. Her old neighbor nodded yes. “In danger from someone up there?” Jenny pointed towards the upstairs level. The mysteriously captivating Rastafarian-woman kept nodding. It was hard to believe. Jenny had no known enemies, and 'Jerry' was nice to everybody he met. “What sort of danger?” Jenny asked to be sure.

“Meh sorry meh dawta, no cyan tell. Trouble no set like rain.” quoth the ancient one cryptically. Her voice seemed to strain the more she spoke. Jenny's psychic was tacitly admitting the limitations of her gift, revealing that she couldn't tell what form the trouble heading her way would take. Peering into the future was not as simple as looking at dark, summer clouds and predicting rain. Her faded irises locked onto Jenny's own baby blues.

Somewhat mesmerized by her powerful gaze, Jenny pondered the meaning of her strange words. “So I won't even see the danger coming?” Jenny puzzled over the contents of the old clairvoyants vision. She seemed to be revealing her prophecy in a series of proverbs rather than spelling it out for Jenny. Perhaps it was her only mode of communication. It was equally possible that she was just some crazy, old bitty. But Jenny was always fascinated by the supernatural, and this conversation positively reeked of the occult.

'Tranny-Granny's' faded irises penetrated deeply into Jenny's soul as she leaned in close. Reaching out to take the younger gurl by the hand, the old Jamaican prepared to speak again. This time, her voice possessed a tired quality, but her body language displayed a good deal of urgency. “What sweet nanny goat a go run his belly.” Her Jamaican patois was beautiful to hear, even though it had faded to a raspy whisper. Yet somehow Jenny tuned it in clearly over the thudding music around them. The kindly geriatric released her trembling grip on Jenny's hand and broke eye contact. She sat silent like Chief Sitting Bull, staring intently at the stairs leading up to the balcony. At what, Jenny could not see. She appeared to be visibly weaker than she'd been moments ago. Although she spoke in riddles, it was clear that she possessed great wisdom.

If Jenny correctly understood the last proverb of the series, it was also cautionary in nature. She thought deeply for a moment. If a goat ate only foods he considered sweet, it would ruin his belly. It was the equivalent of saying, 'What seems good now might actually be bad later.'

The bartender approaching to take her order cut off Jenny's train of thought. In a moment, she returned with Jenny's refreshing ice-water. Sipping from the glass, her mind raced back to the riddle she'd been presented with. She thought perhaps another hint would help her figure it out. But looking to her right she saw only an empty, undisturbed stool. Jenny had only diverted her attention for seconds. Either this 'Tranny-Granny' was deceivingly fast for her age, or Jenny had just experienced a hallucination.

“Hey there sexy!' a high, feminine voice behind Jenny stole her attention from the empty stool.

Spinning around, Jenny found herself face to face with Nessa. She looked even more beautiful than her photos, and although 'Jerry' was 100% hetero-sexual, she found herself attracted to this expert dresser. “Oh, hi Nessa, the gurls are over there dancing...” Jenny reached up to point. She was cut off.

Vanessa gently pulled Jenny's arm back to her side, and locking eyes with the gurl said, “Forget about them, I came here tonight to see you.”

Her gaze was intense, as intense as any stare-down Jenny ever engaged in. But it was a sexual intensity, one of mutual attraction. She felt like prey before a mighty predator. Without even thinking about her purse and shoes on the dance floor with her gurlfriends, Jenny found herself taking Vanessa's arm and following her towards the main entrance.